


You Are The Music In Me

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fragmented Thoughts, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: Sherlock reflects on his observations of John Watson through musical comparisons.





	You Are The Music In Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah ... basically, I lost my mind a little bit. I was in a bit of a manic downswing and found myself dwelling on a few music terms I'm familiar with, relating them to my depression issues. And in doing so, came up with the idea of doing this fic!
> 
> Please be kind, this will be my first try at a Sherlock POV

* * *

Vibrato; Mania vibrating beneath the skin, the pitch of alternating current. A symphony of movement no more overt than a flick of the eyes.

* * *

Microscope. Slide. Molly hovering in the background. New lipstick, revolting. Better than nothing, but if nothing is nothing, it negates itself. Slide. Right. Wait. Molly is gone. Walked away. Retreated? Unlikely. Feelings don't allow her to move too far without good reason. Reason? Oh. Coffee. Right. Inconclusive. Slide, not coffee. 

Prepare a second. Bend, drop liquid onto ... knock. Heavy and light, contradiction; Mike Samford. Unimportant. Wait. Second specimen. New, yet old. Or, older. Than me. Cane. Limp. Hand grips and pushes down but doesn't move for a chair. Psychosomatic. Mention of 'my day.' Colloquialism. Trained at Bart's. Doctor. Need more data. 

Mike. Intermediary. Always forgets his phone. New specimen is Doctor. Tone suggests need to help. Will offer his instead. Further data. 

"Mike, can I borrow your phone?" Typical. Predictable. Doesn't have it. Can feel Specimen glance over, eager to help even if he doesn't realize. Perfect. Boring. "Thank you." Corruption in data. I never say thank you, if there is no reason. Pursue new data? Backlog. Phone offered. Tan line on hand, rough coat edge. Second hand? Low income. Military pension. 

Watson. John Watson. Old friend. Hard drive skip. Information corrupted. No, wait. New sensation? John Watson? Or friend? Both make the information skip for a moment. This isn't right. Virus? But no, I don't get sick. Not really. Transport doesn't wear down. I trained it not to. I can do that. 

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Simple question. Tan line. Doctor's past, military bearing. Simple. To me. Mike, knowing smile. Geared up to watch the weirdo perform. Watson, corner of the eye, confused. Not repulsed. Virus. Skip. Move closer? No, cancel command. Molly. Coffee. No lipstick? For Watson? Two new variables, coincidence? Or cause and effect? Did Molly remove the lipstick because Watson is here?? Not enough data to make a correlation. 

"What happened to the lipstick?" No, damn! Not the right question. Invalid information, useless line of questioning. Virus in hard drive. Reboot? No, wait. Watson. Need more data. A reboot would invalidate current line of deduction and questioning. Backlog.

"I thought it was a big improvement." Grab coffee, turn to move. Gauge Watson's reaction. Unimpressed, doesn't care. Not for Watson, then. "Mouth's too small, now." Walk away, back to experiment. Distance might help the corruption of information. No evidence to support theory, try it anyway. Work hands as Molly exits. Distraction from data gone. Good.

"How do you feel about the violin?" No. Wrong. Not the right question. Continued dissemination of impertinent information. Transport interference? No hunger pangs. No sign of exhaustion or sleep deprivation. Conclusion; transport not effecting hard-drive. What then!? 

Inquiring glance at Mike, still no revulsion or anger. Just confusion. Good? Bit not good?? Too hard to read. Emotion. Useless. 

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes, I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worse about each other." Ambitious lie. Drugs, boredom, violence, all worse than violin and silence. Smile to reinforce the lie. Disbelief from Specimen. Discomfort, but not the usual. No disgust, no anger. No hatred. Unusual. Interesting. Still boring. 

Coat. Scarf. Deductions. Impress. No, wait. Don't care if I impress. Decipher. Yes, try to decipher further data from Specimen. Swift exit. Too much data. Too much energy. Can feel it. Pulsing under my skin. Undercurrent. Electric. Definitive. No, wait. Don't believe in that. Can't believe in something meant to happen. Backlog.

"It's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Run. No, scratch that. Just leave. Easy, simple exit. Leave now. Arg! Glance back. Gauge reaction. Pursed lips. Irritated, but not at me. The situation. The influx of information, because he's confused. Still not the usual reaction. Map possible reactions based on known information, compare to actual outcome. Backlog for later. "The name's Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221b Baker Street." Wink. What!? Why wink!? Glance at Mike. Not sure if angry with him, or fascinated at his choice. Angry. Definitely angry, after that wink. Why would I wink at him!? Corrupted hard-drive. Virus in the Mind Palace.

Escape the room. Reset thought pattern.

I can breathe now. What is it about that man, that homunculus, that renders me unable to think clearly!? And at the tail end of a case, no less. 

Vibrato. Energy. Electric current beneath the skin. Correlation with the introduction of a new specimen ... or the specimen himself? Need. More. Information.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed. I may add further parts to this, following other moments between them. Not sure yet.


End file.
